Questioning

Persistent buzzing of a crowded room where bodies slither past other bodies, past us. I swim intoxicated past my freckled face and see from outside, looking at me looking at you, pondering an answer.

Was it how I found you, slender ankles, sitting on a high stool, right leg over left, that made my heart stumble?

“To kiss you, there,” I say, pointing at a spot of skin just above your clavicle, so near your neck, which is near your mouth, which is what I really want, but such honesty has never been where we were most comfortable.